H is for Hangover"
by Bridget
Summary: Yet another in the alphabet series


TITLE: "C is for Cooking"

TITLE: "H is for Hangover"

AUTHOR: Bridget Frawley ([Scarecro9@aol.com][1])

DISCLAIMER: The characters are the property of Viacom and Spelling/Goldberg Productions. No copyright infringement is intended. It is meant for enjoyment purposes. I retain the rights to the plot and not the characters

Nurse Jill Danko was tidying up the nurses station at Memorial Hospital, glad that her shift was almost over.

"Hi, Jill," Mary Simon greeted cheerfully, coming out of the locker room. "When do you get off duty?"

"In about five minutes," Jill answered wearily. "Why?"

"Today's Cindy's birthday and a few of us are taking her out for a drink to celebrate. Wanna join us?"

"I don't know," Jill answered slowly. "It's been a long day."

"Oh, come on!" Mary complained, putting her hands on her hips. "We never see you outside of work any more. I know you're married but didn't anyone tell you that too much togetherness isn't always a good thing?"

"Actually Mike's working 2 to 10's this week," Jill admitted reluctantly.

"Then what's the problem? Sarah and Kim are going to be there."

"All right," Jill agreed. "Let me just leave Mike a message and change. I'll meet you there in about 20 minutes."

"Great!" Mary exclaimed happily, heading out to the parking lot.

"Clancy's, right?" Jill asked, picking up the phone and dialing the number for the Rampart station house.

"Yep, Clancy's it is," Mary answered over her shoulder.

Jill had just gotten to Clancy's and sat down when the waiter came to take their orders, leaving Jill for last. 

"Now _that's _perfect timing," Kim grinned.

"Sorry I'm late," Jill apologized. "Helen got held up in traffic."

"That's what she always says," Mary remarked. 

"Ma'am?" The waiter interrupted politely.

"I think I'll have the iced tea," Jill answered decisively.

"What a great idea!" Sarah agreed. "I haven't had a Long Island Iced Tea in ages. I'll have the same thing."

"Yes, ma'am," the waiter answered, amending his list accordingly and walking off.

"What's a Long Island Iced Tea?" Jill asked curiously.

"You'll love it," Cindy reassured her. 

"Hey, who's that guy over there?" Kim asked inquisitively, watching someone walking inside. "He looks familiar."

They all glanced over to where Kim indicated and saw a middle-aged gentleman in a dull gray suit head over to the bar and sit down.

"I don't know him," Sarah admitted after a few seconds.

The waiter came over, handed them their drinks and then left.

"That's the flasher the cops brought in yesterday," Cindy answered matter-of-factly, taking a sip of her drink.

"The one that fell off the Santa Monica Pier when the cops showed up to arrest him?" Kim commented incredulously, giving him the once over.

"I thought you said that he was sunburned," Mary remarked suspiciously, eyes narrowing.

"Oh, he is," Cindy chuckled, taking a sip of her own drink. "You just can't see it. Bet it hurts when he sits, though."

Jill started to choke on the sip of her drink she'd just taken as everyone else burst into laughter.

"To Cindy!" Mary announced. "Happy birthday!"

"Happy birthday!" They all chorused, clinking glasses and sipping their drinks.

"Thanks, everyone," Cindy said shyly. "This sure hits the spot. It's been a _long _week."

"Tell me about it," Sarah groaned. "There must have been a full moon or something. I've never seen so many 51/50's in one shift before."

"You hear about the guy the cops brought in earlier?" Kim groused, shaking her head and sipping her drink. "He bolted from the emergency room and locked himself into the psychiatric ward."

"How about the lady who brought her daughter in with an onion in her ear?" Jill continued, finishing her drink.

"An _onion_?!" Mary exclaimed in disbelief. "You're kidding, right?"

"Her daughter had a head ache so she put an onion in the kid's ear and it got stuck," Jill explained, shrugging her shoulders.

"Oh, now that is sad," Sarah laughed, signaling the waiter for another round.

Mike Danko got off duty at about midnight and called the apartment to see if Jill needed a lift home. There was no answer so he decided to swing by Clancy's Pub on the way home. Once he got inside he scanned the crowd, finally spotting his wife sitting at a corner table with a few other nurses. They were all laughing uproariously. "Hey, babe," Mike greeted cheerfully.

"Mike!" Jill exclaimed happily, jumping to her feet. She stumbled over her feet while making her way towards him.

He caught her before she fell, recoiling slightly as her breath had to be at least 180 proof. 

"What are you doing here?" She asked breathlessly, eyes slightly glazed. 

"I just came to see if you needed a ride home," he answered honestly, gripping her arms as she staggered slightly.

"Awwww…" the other nurses called loudly, overhearing the exchange.

"Yeah, anyway…" Mike blushed, temporarily at a loss for words.

"Isn't he the most considerate man you've ever met?" Jill gushed to the table at large, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him passionately. 

"Jill, cut it out," Mike admonished in mortification, detangling her arms from his neck.

She took him by the hand and dragged him towards their table. "Thish -- _this_ wonderful man is my husband, Mike."

"Yeah, hi," he answered with a definite lack of enthusiasm. "Anyone else need a lift?"

"No, thanks," Sarah answered. "We're going home in a little while."

He glanced at them uncertainly, not wanting them on the road in their condition.

"Don't worry, officer," Kim smiled. "We're taking a cab."

"Okay," he replied, mollified. He took Jill by the arm. "Come on, babe. Let's go home."

"Let me just finish my drink first," Jill agreed, grabbing the glass and downing the remainder quickly. 

Mike hustled her outside and into the car and they drove off.

Jill was sitting in the passenger seat, contentedly humming some song extremely off-key. In the beginning Mike thought it was endearing but after a half hour it was starting to grate on his nerves. "We're home," he sighed gratefully, pulling into his regular parking spot and getting out.

Jill opened her car door and started to get out when her knees buckled and she grabbed the door for support. 

Mike hurried to her side, gathered her in his arms and helped her up the stairs.

She started climbing unsteadily. When she got about half-way up she sang at the top of her lungs, "This is dedicated to the one I love!"

"Would you stop that before someone calls the cops?" Mike hissed, glancing around anxiously.

"You are the cops," she giggled.

"Just be quiet, okay?" He pleaded, managing to get her to their apartment. He kept one arm around her as he unlocked the door and propelled her inside. "Let's get you into bed," he sighed.

"What a good idea," she agreed, closing her eyes and promptly passing out cold.

Mike caught her before she hit the ground, lifting her up in his arms and carrying her into their bedroom.

The next morning Jill awoke in agony. Her head was splitting and her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. She groaned and sat up, gasping as everything started to spin. She grabbed the edge of the bed to keep from falling off and took a few shaky breaths. After a few minutes everything settled down into place. She managed to get to her feet and slowly staggered towards the living room, one hand on her forehead.

Mike was just coming out of the kitchen, cup of coffee in hand, when he saw her come into the room. He quickly put the cup on the counter and hurried to her side as she looked like she was about to collapse. "Hey, what are you doing up?"

"Mike, please!" she groaned, putting one hand to her forehead and wincing. She felt like there was someone pounding on her head with a hammer. "Not so loud."

"I'm sorry," he apologized softly, eyes twinkling. He took her in his arms and started gently stroking her hair. 

"I think I have the flu," she whispered thinly.

"I think it's a hangover," Mike corrected, smiling faintly.

"You know I don't drink," she moaned, leaning into him.

"You did last night," he laughed. 

"All I had was iced tea," she corrected quietly, the mere mention of it making her nauseous.

"Babe, it was a lot stronger than iced tea. Trust me, I'm a cop. I know."

She shook her head very minutely. "No, it was iced tea. Long Island Iced Tea."

"Long Island Iced Tea has alcohol in it," he explained patiently.

She looked at him in confusion.

"It's all right. I've been on a few benders myself," he sympathized. "Can I get you some coffee?"

"Don't mention that word," she moaned.

"Why don't you go back to bed? You'll be okay in a few hours," he suggested.

There was a loud knock at the door and the door flew open. Terry Webster and Willie Gillis strode in. "Morning, Mike…Jill," Terry greeted loudly.

Jill whimpered and curled into Mike, closing her eyes and holding him tightly.

"Jill, are you okay? You look terrible," Willie commented, taking in her haggard appearance.

"Thanks a lot," Jill whispered.

"Look, man, she's not feeling good right now," Mike explained rapidly, getting to his feet. 

"Why don't I call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Hey, we just came to invite you to breakfast," Terry explained in self defensive.

Jill gulped and doubled over, trying very hard not to be sick.

"Hey, Terry, we'd better go," Willie suggested solicitously. 

"Good move, William," Mike agreed tersely, all but throwing them out and closing the door behind them. He went back to the couch and sat next to Jill again very gingerly, taking her in his arms and holding her close. 

"Would you do me a favor?" She asked weakly, resting her head on his chest. "Just shoot me already."

"You'll feel better in a few hours," he chuckled. "Here, why don't I help you back to bed and bring you some ginger ale."

"Ohhhh," she moaned. "Can't we just stay here?"

"Sure," he agreed, stroking her arm gently.

After a few minutes she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

He got up carefully, stretched her out on the couch, got a blanket from the bedroom and covered her with it. He kissed her on the forehead, satisfied that she'd sleep for a few hours, and left to go apologize to Terry and Willie.

   [1]: mailto:Scarecro9@aol.com



End file.
